Paul and Lucy Spadoni periodically live in Tuscany to explore Paul’s Italian roots, practice their Italian and enjoy “la dolce vita.”
All work is copyrighted and may not be reprinted without written permission from the author, who can be contacted at www.paulspadoni.com

Saturday, March 24, 2012

A perfect day for pane and pecore

Friday, March 23

Pane delle dolomiti is absolutely the best bread we have
ever eaten. It has a fresh, nutty flavor and is dense without being too heavy.
We know by its brown color that it’s made with bran, but it takes other grains
as well. Some types of pane integrale
we have tried have tough, thick crusts, but in this bread, the crust is thin,
and the inside is rich, moist and bursting with flavor. Molto saporoso! We used to get bread like this in Padova, but it
took a long time in Tuscany to find a bakery that made it here.

We found it last winter in Lucca at Panificio-Pasticceria
Chifenti. It is only available twice a week, on Tuesday and Saturday, and we
learned that we needed to reserve a day or two in advance because it might be
sold out by mid-day. This was no problem last year, when we went to Lucca often
for language lessons, but now we go less frequently. We have started to order
two loaves, putting one in the freezer, since we don’t always know when we can
get our next loaf. We recently noticed some printed information on the bag the bread
comes in: Chifenti has a sister store in Altopascio, Panificio Gianotti. Altopascio
is the first stop when we take the train from San Salvatore to Lucca, so it
shouldn’t be too far to bike there. Now that spring has sprung, the weather
here is typically around 70 degrees, so off I go to see if Panificio Gianotti
will also have our favorite bread in stock tomorrow.

I time my ride for future reference. It takes exactly 16
minutes. Yes, they will have pane delle dolomiti tomorrow, and they will set
aside two loaves for signor Spadoni. On the ride back, I decide to take my time
and try a different route. Several times while riding the train, we have seen
an old man grazing a flock of pecore,
sheep, in the fields near Altopascio. “Someday I’m going to get a photo of
that,” I think, whenever I see him. Hoping
that today might be the day, I ride past a field near the train track, but he
is not there. I come to a T in the road where I should go right to get home,
but what’s that I see on the left branch? Sheep shit (scusatemi, I couldn’t resist the alliteration), fairly fresh, along
with clods of dirt that could have been shaken from sheep hooves. So to the
left I go, and within 500 meters, I am rewarded with a picturesque moment—about
50 sheep in a field, a bearded shepherd and a sheep dog.

The sheep are much larger and more multicolored that what I
see in America, and many have large curly horns. Il pastore is not really as old as he looks from a distance. He is
perhaps in his 50s, and it is probably his scruffy white beard and rugged work
clothes that make him appear older. He has no objection to my taking some photos.
The sheep stay bunched together as they graze on a rich patch of clover. Some
eye me suspiciously as I kneel on the grass, but they quickly go back to their munching.
Now I see that one has wandered about 50 feet away from the herd, with his head
down, intent on his meal.

“Che cosa fai?”
the shepherd calls out. “Vieni qua.”
With those words, his dog, who has been exploring the yard across the street,
springs into action, running around the other side of the straying sheep and
sending it scuttling back to the herd. I remember my own dog, who is part
Australian shepherd, and think how happy he would be to have a flock of sheep
to boss around. Woof E. loves to follow our chickens and keep them in a group,
and if we try to get them in the coop in the evening, he really responds with
enthusiasm.

The shepherd says he lives nearby, and his sheep graze on a
variety of neighboring pastures. He lets them graze only a short time on each
field so they won’t cut the grass too short or cause damage with their hooves. He
uses the milk to make pecorino, an exquisite and popular cheese, but some of
the sheep are also used for their meat. I ask him if he sells the cheese and
meat, and he says no, it is just for family. However, that’s probably the standard
answer he gives to stranieri. He must
sell to the locals and perhaps give some away to those whose fields he uses
more frequently. He asks me if these sheep are like the ones in America, and I
tell him that our sheep are different and so are the conditions in which they
are raised, usually on very large farms. His sheep, I tell him, seem very content.

Now it is time for his flock to move to another field. “Vado,” he says to me, and “Venite” to the sheep. With a little help
from his cane fedele, they follow him
down the road and leave me in the same condition as the sheep, very content.

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About Me

First off, before you hassle me about our title, Lucy thought of it. Yes, I know some people may think broad is derogatory, but the etymology is uncertain and she doesn’t find it offensive, and it made me laugh. We have been married since 1974 and are empty-nesters now, which allows me to bring my submerged Italophilia into the open. We first came to live in Italy from February-April in 2011 and have returned during the same months every year. From 2011-2015, we lived in San Salvatore, at the foot of the hilltop city Montecarlo, where my paternal grandparents were born, raised and, in 1908, married. In late 2015, we bought a home in Montecarlo. We come for a variety of purposes: We want to re-establish contact with distant cousins in both Nonno’s and Nonna’s families, we want to learn the language and see what it is like to live as Italians in modern Italy, we like to travel and experience different cultures. Even if we aren’t successful at achieving these purposes, we love Italy and enjoy every moment here, so there is no chance we will be disappointed. I am grateful to God for giving me a wife who is beautiful, clever, adaptable and willing to jump into my dreams wholeheartedly.